


Between My Teeth And Ghost

by Zai42



Series: October 2020 [6]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Altered Mental States, Drug Use, Gen, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: The potion wasn't supposed to do this, Cel was certain of that. And not much else.Prompt: Psychedelic
Relationships: Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom & Zolf Smith
Series: October 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946893
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Between My Teeth And Ghost

The thing is. The _thing_ is. This wasn’t supposed to -

The walls were moving. Was there always a door there? Cel reached out to test if it was a real door and was distracted by their hand, the trails of color it leaves in its wake.

This wasn’t - they had made a potion.

They were sure it had been right, the color and consistency and taste as they had expected (sky blue, thick like rice syrup, sour cherry) but this wasn’t what it was -

Window, the window was open and Cel hadn’t opened it. Had they? They stumbled over to it, reaching for the wall to steady themselves only to discover the wall was -

Not real? Or far away?

Their hand passed through open air. The room went sideways in a motion blur of color. There was pain and there was noise and Cel wasn’t sure what order they happened in.

Window was open. They were staring right at it, a solid square of white light in a shifting bed of confused color. Their breathing was heavy and labored because if they stopped, if they didn’t work hard at it, they wouldn’t, they would stop, or possibly throw up, but maybe they should try that, try to get the thick sludgey potion out of them again -

They had knocked over a work bench, that had been the noise. They’d fallen right through it, and other potions were starting to seep into their clothes, their hair, and distantly Cel panicked a bit because gosh, that can’t be good, can it. That was a lot of alchemical components they couldn’t remember the names or effects or tastes or -

They could remember the colors. Or rather they could see the colors, bleeding together on whatever surface Cel was lying on. The light from the open widow lit them up like gemstones. They didn’t think any of them were poison-colored, at least.

There was a voice from the door-that-wasn’t - Cel had forgotten about that door, but it seemed to be real enough after all, with the way Zolf was standing in it, looking down at them with worry clear on his features.

He worried so much. Then again, the potion wasn’t meant to do this, so Cel was worried, too.

He was speaking. The words oozed around Cel and refused to form something coherent. They licked their lips. “The window,” they said. They reached vaguely in his direction, surprised when their fingers touched his leg, the prosthetic cool and mechanical beneath his clothes. They had fixed them for him once before. Tinkered with them to make them move more smoothly. They could feel every gear and screw under their fingertips like they were a part of them, a bit of Cel stitched into Zolf to help him walk. The thought made them smile vaguely.

The room tipped dizzily again and Cel was scooped up in Zolf’s arms and oh, that. That was nicer than being on the floor, certainly. His tattoos were moving. Cel didn’t think they’d done that before. They prodded at them with a fingertip as he carried them out of the lab. “Window was open,” Cel said. They needed him to understand this wasn’t their fault, this wasn’t what the potion was supposed to do, and the window was open so that should explain everything.

“You’re gonna be okay,” said the kraken tattoo on Zolf’s shoulder, and Cel burst into hysterical, helpless laughter. 


End file.
